Harold woke to the rich, comforting aroma of smoke and freshly baked bread, the warmth of the morning air carrying hints of crisp embers still smoldering in the hearth. They had found some wild wheat out in a forest clearing, the wind caressing its golden strands, and it was quickly gathered and brought back. The group that found it was rewarded with some of their small supply of silver.Not breakfast yet. Someone had started early, which usually meant they were nervous or trying to stay useful. He stayed in bed a moment longer, eyes open, listening to the Lord's Hall wake around him.Footsteps on the stairs. A low murmur drifting up from below. Someone laughed, then stopped like they'd remembered where they were.It had been over a week since Sarah left.That thought came more easily now. Still unwelcome, but no longer sharp enough to cut. She'd vanished into the forest and hills with no roads, no markers, just a direction and the understanding that turning back wouldn't help anyone.A week meant she should have reached the dungeon by now. She would be delving into that dungeon soon, and a lot depended on his sister completing it.Harold swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face. Yesterday's runner came back to him immediately, breathless and proud of himself for surviving the trip. He said there was some predator out there following him.Word of a herd of buffalo, though. It was probably a herd of Tatanka; they were common in this area and commonly used as cattle by the natives on Gravesend. The most significant difference was that they had a rack of horns like deer or elk did, not like the buffalo did from earth. But they were good cattle.They'd spent most of yesterday locked in a heated discussion on how not to screw it up. Caldwell was adamant they needed a plan, while Hale pointed out the potential risks of overcomplicating things. "We need those tatanka, no room for error," Caldwell insisted, his voice sharp with urgency. Hale nodded, but countered, "Too much complexity and we'll stall. We can't afford delays." Harold listened more than he talked, his gaze shifting between them. Eventually, he leaned forward and said, "Alright, make it happen today." The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing them into action. He stood, pulled on his boots, and paused with his hands resting on the edge of the bed.Sarah would have liked this problem. She's been thriving here in a way she struggled with back on earth. "Be careful," he said quietly, not sure who he meant it for.Downstairs, someone called his name. Someone was checking if he was awake yet.Harold straightened, squared his shoulders, and headed for the door.Harold stepped into the lower hall and immediately clocked the silence. It wasn't just quiet, it felt like a held breath. Margret and Hale stood near one of the long tables, their conversation dying as soon as he appeared. Harold noticed Hale's hand tighten around the edge of the table just a little, and Margret quickly averted her eyes to the doorway, as if expecting someone else to appear. The hush felt more dangerous than odd.That alone would've been enough.Hale caught his eye and gave a slight motion with two fingers, subtle but deliberate."My lord," Hale said. "May we speak?"The words landed wrong.Hale rarely used the title. Not unless there were witnesses or something mattered.Harold slowed, eyes flicking once to Margret. She looked past him, focused very hard on nothing at all."Let me grab some breakfast first," Harold said. Casual and measured. "Then we'll talk."Hale didn't answer.He stepped forward instead and held out a wooden bowl. Inside was fresh bread, still warm, torn into thick pieces. Someone had even bothered to smear a bit of rendered fat along the edge. Harold took the bowl, feeling the weight of the bread in his hand, but he didn't immediately bite into it. The bread smelled good, but he let it cool in his grip. Hale's expression remained unchanged."We should talk now," he said.Harold allowed the silence to linger for a moment, his fingers leaving light impressions on the bread as he considered the tension in the room. He took this time to observe them both a little more. This was out of character for both of them. It couldn't be a danger to the village, or they would be going about this differently."Sure, we can go to my office." Harold took a step towards his office, and they both followed along behind him.He opened the door and walked in. He settled at his desk and set his bowl of food down. He pulled his chair up and started to eat."Alright, you two, what is this about?"He closed the office door first. Just enough to make the click carry.Then he looked at Harold."What do you know about my background?" Hale asked.Harold paused with the bread halfway to his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then set the bowl down again."Not much," he said. "You were in the army. You got out. A few years later, you were teaching history. Something about having worked closely with intelligence units."Hale nodded once, like he'd expected exactly that.Margret shifted against the wall, arms folded. She still hadn't sat either."That's the short version," Hale said.Harold leaned back slightly in his chair. "It's the version you gave me."Hale's mouth twitched at that. Not quite a smile."I didn't lie," he said. "I just stopped early."Margret finally spoke. "He didn't go straight from the army to a classroom."Harold's eyes moved to her. "Alright," he said. "Then fill in the gap.""I worked in intelligence. Field collection, analysis, and training. I wasn't alone, and I wasn't important enough to be irreplaceable."Margret snorted quietly at that. Hale ignored her."When we got here, I checked the forum," he continued. "Same as everyone else. Before we left Earth, Margret and I checked in with some people we knew and told them to look for signs of us on the forum.""We didn't tell them anything else about Gravesend, but now they are asking how we knew," Hale explained. That's not the critical part, though."Hale leaned back against the wall. "I found people I used to work with. Different agencies, different missions, same habits."Harold stayed quiet."They're on Gravesend," Hale said. "They're scattered and lying low. Some are better off than others, but no one is doing as well as we are here. They're all roles, including Lords."Margret finally spoke. "They've already been talking shop.""Carefully," Hale added. "No structure yet. No chain. But enough to jump-start the ranger project you asked me to build. Some of them are close."That earned a nod of interest from Harold."They can teach," Hale went on. "Movement, tracking, observation, counter-tracking. How not to be seen when being seen gets you killed. It's real instruction, not just drills.""And?" Harold asked.Hale didn't dodge it. "They want something in return."Margret's voice was softer now. "Their families."Harold looked between them. "Finding them?""And getting them here," Hale said. "Safely. Some of the places they are in are still really bad off."That sat heavier than anything else he'd said.They're willing to commit," Hale continued. "Train people full-time, take missions, I have impressed the threat the other races are. Some believe, some don't. But they won't anchor themselves to this place unless their families are anchored here too."Harold tapped a finger once against the desk. "How many?""And if we don't offer them a place here," Hale added cautiously, "there's talk that a rival faction might welcome them into their fold. We need to act quickly.""I think I can get a couple dozen of them here if we can send out some escort missions to the adventurers or the Army. Some of them don't know where their families are; they want our help finding them. Call it 20 people to help with the program. With another 100 in the family. And that's just the ones that are close."The room went quiet.Finally, Harold nodded. "That's not an unreasonable ask."Hale's shoulders loosened slightly."But," Harold continued, "anyone involved will take an oath to me. A variation of the one you already swore. The same applies to both of you."He looked at them in turn."I'm not recreating the same games intelligence agencies played back on Earth. Not here."Margret smiled faintly.Hale nodded once. "I understand, and I would have told you to do the same."Harold let the silence sit a moment longer, then shifted his attention to Margret."And you?" he asked. "What did you actually do?"Margret didn't answer right away.She glanced at Hale first. Just habit more than permission. Then she looked back at Harold, her expression softer than it had been all morning."I met him in the field once," she said.Hale snorted quietly. "She saved my life." His laughter held a sharp edge, a hint of something darker beneath the humor.Margret waved it off. "You were a mess."Even as they exchanged smiles, Hale's fingers idly grazed the edge of his belt, where something metallic gleamed faintly, a silent reminder of other possibilities."That's because you shot me!" Hale exclaimed.She smiled at that, just a little."We stayed in contact after," Margaret continued. "Off and on. Same circles, different sides of the board."Harold waited."I wasn't a field agent," Margaret said. "Not really. I was an analyst."Hale raised an eyebrow. "Coulda fooled me." He said mulishly.She shot him a look. "Highly placed," she corrected. "I didn't run sources. I read reports and figured out how they fit together."Harold leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment before shifting his gaze to Hale."Then why did you both decide to come work for me?" he asked. "Hale, Garrick brought you in. How did he even know you?"Hale smiled at that."Garrick and I were squad leaders together during the war," he said. "Good NCO.. Better man. He knew a little about what I got involved in afterward.Margret nodded. "When your demonstration happened," she said, "he called Hale.""Asked me to assess you," Hale continued, "and to figure out what you'd gotten his niece mixed up in."Harold snorted quietly. "And?"Hale's smile faded into something more thoughtful."Then I saw it," he said. "Your demonstration. What you did. What happened around you?"He shook his head once. "I ran through every explanation I had."Margret added, "None of them worked.""It wasn't tech," Hale said. "Not training. Not misdirection. It didn't fit any framework I knew."As he spoke, the room seemed to dim ever so slightly, as though the shadows themselves leaned in to listen. There was a peculiar coolness to the air near Harold, a sensation like a gentle breeze that carried with it the faintest shimmer, as if the air had taken on a ripple of its own.He met Harold's eyes. "It was magic."The word hung there, oddly plain for what it carried."And that convinced you?" Harold asked."It convinced me I was out of my depth," Hale said.Silence settled as Harold worked through what they'd told him."And what do you think of all this now?" he asked.Margret answered before Hale could."I still don't believe most of it," she said. "Not really."Both men looked at her."Living here for twenty years," she continued. "Enslavement. Torture. Magic on a scale I can't even frame properly. If you'd told me that story anywhere else, I'd have walked."Hale didn't interrupt."But," Margaret went on, "you know too many things. Details you shouldn't have. Patterns you couldn't guess. I've tried to come up with another explanation for that. Making more fantastic potions here."She shook her head once. "I can't."Harold stayed quiet."I don't understand the magic," she said. "I don't like how much it changes the rules. But pretending it isn't real would be worse."She folded her arms, thinking as she spoke now.Margret leaned forward slightly. "We don't need everyone. We need the right ones. The forum lets us screen before we ever move." Harold considered her words, sensing the practicality they could bring. "If we're already planning escort missions for families," Margret continued, "we should expand the scope. Bring in the people we actually need. Engineers. Medics. Logisticians. Not just fighters. Imagine a bridge we've seen collapsed on the northern pass. With the right team, we could rebuild it and open a new trade route, turning plans into tangible progress."Hale glanced at her. "Careful.""I am," she replied. "Careful doesn't mean timid.""And intelligence," Hale added."Yes," Margaret agreed. "And intelligence."Harold finally spoke. "That's a larger operation.""It is," Margaret said. But we already have the people in those places to recruit and vet for us."Finally, Harold nodded, thinking while he took a second to eat. "Alright," he said, pointing the last of his bread at her.Both of them stilled."We start small," Harold continued. "We get the people we need from the villages within the basin first. We can't make the crossing through the mountain passes yet anyway."He looked between them. "Tell me what you need to make it happen, and we'll do it."Margret smiled faintly. "That's all I was asking."Hale let out a slow breath. "I'll draft the first list."Harold picked up the bread again. It had cooled, but it was still good."Thank you," Harold said calmly, "for trusting me with the truth."Harold's hand slipped from beneath the desk.He placed a small vial gently on the wood between them. The red liquid inside was thick, with tiny orange flecks suspended like embers caught mid-fall. A subtle warmth seemed to radiate from it, a heat that did not burn but hinted at a dormant power. As the vial settled on the desk, it gave off a soft hum, almost like an inaudible whisper, and a faint scent drifted through the air, reminiscent of charred cedar and citrus. The room seemed to hold a breath, the presence of the vial commanding quiet attention before anyone spoke.Hale frowned slightly and leaned in, curiosity winning out over caution.Harold met his gaze and smiled."You aren't the only ones who come prepared," he said.Both of them froze.Hale's eyes widened, then he barked out a laugh, sudden and loud enough to make Margret flinch. She shot him a sharp look, then turned her scowl on Harold."Really?" Margret said. "You thought we were threatening you?""I didn't know what you wanted," Harold shot back. "You both demanded a private meeting, used titles, and started circling your past like it was a crime scene."Hale was still laughing, one hand braced on the desk. "That's… actually fair."Margret crossed her arms. "Unbelievable.""I've been here long enough to know how this usually goes," Harold said. "I wouldn't be the first Lord killed by his own people."That finally cut Hale off.Margret huffed, shaking her head. "You plan for paranoia now, too?""I am paranoid," Harold said evenly.Hale wiped at his eyes, grin still there. "Well," he said, "if this was a test, you passed."Margret looked between them, then sighed. "Next time, we start with words."Harold nodded. "Next time, don't open with 'my lord'."For a moment, the tension broke completely.Then Margret glanced back at the vial on the desk."…Still," she added, "I'd like to know what that does."Harold's smile didn't fade.
